


The Void

by AdultDiversion



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Conspiracy Theories, Drabble, Game of Thrones spoilers, Jon Snow is a Targaryen, Jon Snow knows nothing, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-20
Updated: 2015-06-20
Packaged: 2018-04-05 04:58:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4166859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdultDiversion/pseuds/AdultDiversion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Acidy drabble, written in the throes of post S05-finale-shivers. Objective: invoking the righteous anger of Sylvia Plath's ghost.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Void

A wild, blazing yellow eats the red, turning shades of vicious purple, bursting into the clearest, turquoise plumes, as awareness dawns:

 _I am. I am. I am._

Before this present, before conscience: The Cold. Glints of piercing, penetrating Cold. It took him. It tucked and folded him into itself, into the darkness resting there, at the core. It kept him there, wrapped in velvet oblivion - forever, or a mere second, perhaps.

Before him, now: arms. Legs, feet. His. He is sentience and emotion, and memory, too. Yes, memories: flashes of steel. The scent of blood, his own. That black pause. 

He remembers, as flames leap up beneath him, licking the soles of his feet. This cosmos, whatever it is, will swallow him whole: it wants to burn the skin right off his limbs, make it melt and crackle and hiss with its own fat; Cosmos will turn him to cinder, to smoke.

That is what he fears, at first, before realizing: it doesn’t hurt - not at all. 

All around him, within him, is _fire_ and _fire_ and _fire_ , and color, and light. He tells the violent purple to lay calm against his skin, and it does, wrapping him like silk, like smoke. He orders the red flame to leap into his hand. It does, assuming the long, swiping length of a sword in the darkness. An extension. The fire bends to his will, a curling fist, as much a part of him as anything. _I am. I am. I am._ He understands now: he comprises it.

He always did. And he will carry Fire with him, out of the void. 

His name was never Snow, to begin with.


End file.
